Chapter 2: A Day in the Dwair
I woke up in Discord’s Dwair. A dwelling or lair, he never could decide, so he just called it his Dwair. While it had once been the Castle of Canterlot, being trapped in the mind of Discord had given it some… interesting properties, to say the least. Halls had grown. Towers had shrunk. Stairs decided to become ramps at odd intervals. Every so often they would randomly slicken, causing you to slide down them, or up them, depending on the flow of gravity. The floors would move for you, if you wanted, you just had to ask nicely, and the furniture had a way of thinking it was sentient. Granted, having thoughts meant it was sentient, but it was furniture! It had no brain!
As if to prove my point, the bed I was on, having noticed I was awake, bucked me onto the floor. I suppose it was only fair, since it had to hold my weight while I slept. I was a very active sleeper. I’d given beds bruises before.
As I stood up from my unceremonious dumping, I winced in pain, and started hacking up small rivulets of blood. The sword had been real, it seemed. He was getting more and more pressuring with his training. Every night it was just as bad, if not worse. He said the madness was a boon. That it would grant me willpower unmatched. Perhaps I should just give in. But, as uncle always said, where’s the fun in that?
“Took you long enough to snap…” came Discord’s voice to my left. I turned, and saw my uncle reclining in a chair. His legs rested comfortably on a hoofstool, as he smoked bubbles from a pipe. He was in a gentlemanly mood right now, and, as such, was wearing his charming black bowler hat. One of the many books from the Grand Library was in his hands. It appeared that he’d been waiting for some time.
I tried to see what book he was reading, but the title kept switching. I suppose it fit him to randomly switch books every few words. I wonder what types of stories that made for him.
“Well? Are you going to answer?” asked Discord.
Sighing, I limped to my feet, and willed my injury away. “Why do you insist on murdering me so much? Surely there must be another way?”
“Of course there is! I just love to see you squirm. All the other ways are just so booooring… Although, now that you mention it, I suppose mind games can be fun. Maybe I should try some of the more subtle tactics on you. I’m sure you’d respond hilariously to some of them… Lets see there’s that one… Yes, I could do that one…”
He muttered nonsense to himself for awhile, which I guess counted as a dismissal. I suppose I’d have to hope for something new tonight when he picked up training again. A small shiver ran down my spine at the thought. The difference between the prankster him and the murderous psychopathic him was startling. I was just glad he was too whimsical to stay in murder mode for long. Normally he channeled it specifically to train me. He wouldn’t say for what, just that it was part of the bargain.
I walked through the Dwair, or, more specifically, I had the floor move me through the Dwair. It really was quite fun. You could have it bend to your whim in anyway you want. You could use it like a spring and launch yourself in the air, or just have your feet sink in and zip around the walls and ceiling like you were on a roller coaster. You could even do it to other ponies if you wanted. One of my favorite games as a child was trapping my uncles servants in place and watching them scramble to do his bidding. The faster they moved the faster I moved the floor, until we both collapsed, them in exhaustion, me in laughter.
I zipped to the kitchens, launching myself through the door that had decided to place itself on the ceiling today. I brushed the ceiling as I came through, had it catch me, and launched myself back towards the floor. As I stuck the landing the oven opened and out popped a cake. In it was a card that had the number ten on it. I grabbed a slice of cake and put it in my mouth, savoring the taste of a perfect score.
Instead of sweet marble cake, I found myself biting into blueberry pie. I looked back, and saw an eight in the pie. I don’t know why I ever trusted that damn oven. It seemed to like lies involving cake. That’s okay, because nine was my favorite score anyways. A score of nine gave me any number of rainbow flavored foods. I loved rainbows and their delicious mind-numbingly amazing spiciness.
Distracted from my thoughts of how horrible training was, I continued munching on the pie. When I finished it, I let the floor swallow me whole to go find somepony to prank. I needed a good one after last night.
Swimming through the stone, I sent out small tremors to find people. It was sort of like echo-location, but with stone. Discord said it was good to practice using other senses, especially the ones you don’t have, so that you’ll never be caught unprepared.
I sensed a lot of his ridiculous servants, the buffalos in tutus, as well as a couple ponies. It was surprising how well the population of Canterlot held up being trapped in here. No matter what Discord said about them begging for death, they’d all become attached to the place in some way.
I popped in on Fancypants in his daily money shower, turning the bits blazing hot for a second. Yapping in a very undignified manner he turned to me, and willed the floor away, causing me to fall to the floor below. Unfortunately, he’d miscalculated, and I wound up falling down the hole between twenty flights of stars instead. Laughing, I turned it into a swan dive, and splashed gracefully back into the floor to begin looking for another victim.
He was getting better. My training had gotten him at least rudimentary control of his will. I swam through the floor, looking for my next victim. I found Soarin and Spitfire in one of the many Grand Halls. Soarin, as usual, was stuffing his face. If there is one thing that Discord’s mind did that made up for his depravity it was make food that defied the senses. Sure, it was just as likely to make grass taste like spit, or hay taste like certain things that shall remain nameless, but it made some truly mind boggling foods.
Imagine a starlit night in the middle of a field of flowers. Their sweet perfume as intoxicating as any cider to be had, and in the midst of it all a babbling brook of the sweetest water flowed through the field, licking and tickling your hooves, as you watched it all. Now imagine that as a food you could have here.
I watched them for awhile, deciding what was the best way to prank them. Finally, an idea struck, and I darted up to the ceiling to get the best view possible. Hanging like a bat, I slowly concentrated on the food below me.
There were chickens and turkeys and all other kinds of savory meats on the tables. Most ponies, including myself, avoided them and just let Discord have at them. As herbivores, we didn’t really get the whole meat thing. That didn’t mean they didn’t have their uses though.
I willed the meat to start moving towards the pair. The chickens and turkeys got on their legs and wobbled toward the two. The sausages slithered forward, like snakes humming purrs of delight. The ribs scuttled forward, like spiders, and spun webs of delectable spices around the food that had been piled in front of the two. Soarin and Spitfire handled it well for their part. They stood back to back, wary, but not terrified. They had clearly learned that before you panic you should find out who’s calling the shots on whatever was happening to you at the moment.
Smiling, I let them gladly know who was in charge. Whistling to the meats below, I tapped the conductors baton I’d summoned on the podium I’d willed in front of me and let the music play. Soarin and Spitfire had looked up in relief to see it was me, and not Discord, but they looked back down when my "show" began.
To call it a show wasn’t saying much. Meats don’t have much in the way of natural talents when it comes to show tunes. They hobbled along in their little dance routines, but got off key way too easy. When it was clear that this particular show wasn’t going to work, I let them drop and flew down to my friends.
“Nice to see you’re all getting used to stunts like that finally,” I said.
“Yours aren’t as bad as his,” said Spitfire, “At least you know when to drop it.”
“Umm… I hate to be a bother, but…” muttered Soarin.
“Yes, you can go back to making a pig of yourself.” I laughed, turning towards the door. “I’ll see you later guys. I have a lot to do today, and need to rest up for tonight’s normal batch of horrors.”
“Be Careful!” Spitfire yelled, as I walked away. I tried to resist the urge for one last prank, and failed. As I walked through the door, I heard an audible oink from Soarin, and a predicable yell of surprise from Spitfire as Soarin really did make a pig of himself.
Laughing, I zipped through the corridors. I imagined them trying to sort the mess out. I wondered how long they would try to will him back before they realized that pulling his tail would do the trick. That was the difference between me and Discord. I left you a way out. If you couldn’t have your will beat mine, I left you a chance at freedom. All you had to do was find it.
I trotted through the gardens, watching the birds burrow, and the moles fly through the air. The moles were rather adorable, with their sunglasses shielding their sensitive eyes. The birds popped out of the ground every now and then to chirp at me loudly before digging back underground. The flowers bloomed and wilted on a whim. Sometimes, they’d whither as you pass by, giving off a feeling of sadness. Other times, they did nothing but bloom. They’d bloom, and drop their petals, only to bloom again in a different color, or even as a different flower.
Trees grew both downwards and upwards. It all depended on whether they saw the glass half empty, or half full. Why grow up today if they’d just die tomorrow? Why grow down in the dumps when there was so much to see? These were the questions every tree faced, or so I was told. They weren’t very talkative. The only one I’d ever gotten a response out of had been the one I called Fluttershy. The wind loved to flutter through her leaves, and she’d been real shy, which was why I’d named her that, but I suppose that as she was the only tree ever to talk to me she was actually rather outgoing? I’d have to rethink the name.
As I walked through the garden, day flickered to night and vice versa. The many little stars that acted as suns for varying areas liked to jump back and forth from each state. The day was so bright and warm and energetic, while the night was so smooth and mysterious. They just couldn’t decide which they liked more.
During a particularly turbulent period where the star wanted to be both day and night at once, and was flickering back and forth really fast with some periods of twilight inbetween, I came upon a pony I’d never seen before. He was brown with a rather short mane cut and an hourglass cutie-mark. What was strange wasn’t that he bolted from me when he saw me, but the fact that I’d never seen him before. Newcomers were very rare to the Dwair. Its not like most people willingly enter the mind of an insane being of chaos that you have no hope of ever escaping from.
“Wait!” I called, but he just kept running.
“Sorry! Can’t stop to chat! Wouldn’t want to cause a paradox now would we!”
Paradox? Whatever could he mean? This was Discord’s Dwair, the home of the paradox. I chased after him as he prattled on in his charming English accent about how I really shouldn’t follow him, and how if I really wanted to know him I need only wait a little bit.
“At least tell me your name!” I yelled at him as we rounded a particularly sharp corner.
I had time enough to hear him yell, “Why I’m the Doctor of course! Who else would I be?” and then he rounded another corner and I lost him.
After wondering a bit more, I went back to the castle. It was time to get what little sleep I could before my training began again. I’d need all the pleasant dreams I could get before my usual jaunt with whatever nightmares my uncle cooked up for me.
Once again, this was proofread by John Perry. If there are any grammar mistakes left, its my fault for making so darn many, not his. Trust me.. There were a lot of things wrong before.